


Our Strange Duet

by twoneone



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3483923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoneone/pseuds/twoneone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christine has a plan.<br/>(originally posted on ff.net under handle moronhighschoolhostclub)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Strange Duet

**Author's Note:**

> hi this is garbage but its my first sex scene and it took me a span of like. 5 months. haha

Their love consisted of a twisted backstory that, had you seen them today, you'd never believe it true. They seemed so joyful, so full of love and passion that you'd never guess the events that led up to it. When they were in a room together, Christine would rarely take her eyes off of the man. Erik would wrap his arm around her shoulders so tightly, as if to dare the surrounding men to look at her and as if to demand her to spare no thought for them. Oh no, he would not lose the most prized thing in his life, the only woman in the world that could fill him with the joy he once believed he'd never experience. 

Christine knew of his possessiveness long before he possessed her. She used to be deeply in love with a childhood friend, Raoul. She had not known Erik when she met him, and after six months of a healthy, happy relationship with the young man, Erik came spiraling into her life like a storm. She'd felt so alone, so conflicted in the time between her and Raoul's breakup and her and Erik's beginning, but she soon found that Erik, who loved her much more than she could understand, would be there for her always, in her darkest moments, in ways that Raoul could not be. A sick part in the back of her mind had known that, while Erik was a fast developer in anything he sets his mind to, he wasn't always sure on what to do when dealing with… _intimate_ times. Raoul had never failed to pleasure her in ways that she would not dare tell, ways that left her entire being satisfied, beyond satisfied, leaving her absolutely no room to think about more. 

Sometimes she missed his intimate touches, but she knew (and rather hoped) that as soon as her masked lover got the hang of things, he'd be even more breathtaking than she could imagine. He never ceased to amaze her in everything he did, and she was sure that he would not disappoint her in this. He just needed a little push, that was all, and Christine knew exactly what she needed to do. 

Still, when she and Erik encountered the young man in a small café on the corner of their small market square, a quick spike of warmth shot down her spine at the memory of his skilled hands. It was Erik's, she found, that rapped around her shoulder and reassuringly massaged circles. She was unsure if this action was meant to reassure her or himself. 

"Raoul!" she exclaimed, and she worried if she seemed too excited. More than likely, the tone of voice she held came off a little too enthusiastic for Erik's taste, as much of a jealous wreck he was. She'd have to explain that it was excitement for seeing an old friend. She did not love the blonde any longer; her heart belonged to the tall man looming over her shoulder. "It's so good to see you!" 

Raoul turned around with a large coffee in his hand and an even larger grin spread across his face. His eyes crinkled and his bright, shining teeth practically sparkled, and she swore she could feel Erik's scowl radiating off of him. She knew Erik well enough to know he was plotting Raoul's murder this second, right down to where he'd dispose of the body. She didn't let it stop her from continuing. 

"Christine!" Raoul joyfully exclaimed, placing his drink on the counter next to him to walk nearer to her. She pulled away from Erik to hug the blonde tightly, giving him a kiss on the cheek. They separated at the sound of the masked man clearing his throat. 

"Erik," Raoul gave a curt nod in the man's direction. "Good to see you." His tone was clipped and polite. 

"The pleasure is mine." Erik said, though it held undertones of repulsion and disgust, as if Erik spoke to the scum of the earth, and to Erik, he might as well have been. 

"It's been so long, I missed you," Christine broke the awkward tension with a suggestion. "Why don't we all sit down and catch up?" 

Raoul looked conflicted. "That sounds nice, but I don't think Mr. Murder here can look at me any longer without attempting to strangle me," Raoul mocked, and Christine laughed nervously. Erik hardly twitched. 

"For once, he isn't wrong," he said coldly, and Christine smacked his arm. 

"Hmm, well, maybe you and I can get together for coffee sometime? Y'know, to catch up and stuff?" Christine prompted, and Raoul nodded, after some thought. 

"Sounds good to me, but I'm booked all week, how about, ah, Thursday?" he asks, and the short, blonde woman nods.  
"Thursday works for me! See you then, Raoul!" she hugs him quickly and pokes Erik's arm, to which he grunts a civil well wish to the man. The couple departs quickly, and Erik is silent as Christine chatters on next to him. 

"Oh!" she declares suddenly, and Erik is on guard. He tenses and looks at her with eyes filled with confusion. "We never even got any coffee!" 

Erik does not respond, and Christine fights back a smirk. She's playing a dangerous game and she knew it. 

All she had to do now was wait. 

* * *

The days between their encounter and Thursday were filled with passive aggression from the man. Though Erik would never admit, he was brooding. Nadir, knowing the man even better than Christine, was aware of this. The way he kept silent, stood constantly on guard and refrained from the usual antagonizing directed at the old Persian man, he knew that Erik was wallowing in something of self pity. 

Now, there were countless things Erik could be upset about, Nadir noted. Though, since he and the young, joyful Christine had joined together, his outlook on his life had grown into a brighter horizon. Nadir smiled fondly at the memory of when Erik had explained Christine's choice of him over the young, handsome man she had been dating. Raoul, if he recalled correctly. A thought sprung to Nadir. It may have been a while since he'd held the title of Daroga (though Erik still persisted in calling him that), but his detective skills still remained in tact. 

He wondered what had happened that Raoul had returned into the picture. Perhaps the girl had cheated? No, she seemed too kind hearted and compassionate to do such a thing. That, and no one in their right minds would dare come in the way of Erik's happiness, especially in such a way. The pair loved each other deeply, that fact was obvious. For Christine to cheat on Erik, that was too much a far-fetched theory. Perhaps Erik suspects that she was cheating on him? This seemed plausible, as Erik was an extremely jealous type of person. He also over thought everything to the last detail, coming up with theories that usually caused him to believe the situation to be much worse than it truly was. He was, if Nadir was to pick a word, _dramatic._ Though, the only thing to crush that theory was that Raoul had not been heard from for a long time, since the two split up. That was almost a year ago, if Nadir remembered. Unless Raoul had somehow returned, Erik would have no reason to suspect her cheating. 

"Nadir," Erik said, finally. 

"Ah, are you done wallowing yet? I was starting to think an Erik long lost was back, I was contemplating having Darius retrieve the good wine," Nadir teases. 

"Terribly sorry to ruin your fun, _Daroga_ ," Erik said, his tone dripping with condescension. "Perhaps another time, maybe when I am able to finally rid the world of that _idiot."_ He practically hisses the words, and with that, Nadir's theory is confirmed. 

"Ah, so Raoul has returned, then?" Nadir inquires. 

"Yes." He answers simply, his fingers gently tapping a rhythm against the arm of the chair. 

"Well, what is the problem with that? They were friends long before they were a couple, there is no harm in reuniting, is there?" Nadir suggests, and Erik shoots up from his chair. 

"That is the thing, Daroga!" he shouts. "They have made plans! By Christine's suggestion!" 

"Well, hm, perhaps she wishes to catch up?" Nadir attempts to calm the man who is on the verge of a tantrum. 

"Oh, but if they catch up, Daroga, Christine will be reminded of the times they had together, and she will think, 'I was a fool for ever choosing that hideous demon over this perfect, magnificent man!' and she will leave me all alone with just the remnants of my shattered heart, Nadir!" the man rambled on, and the Persian put his head in his hands. He wondered if he'd ever truly be rid of Erik's incessant drama, and he concluded that only death's sweet release would truly keep him from the constant pestering. _Allah have mercy_ , he thought. 

"Well, if you are so worried that she will choose Raoul over you, then perhaps you should give her a reminder as to why she chose you." He didn't want to think of the actions that this suggestion entailed, but he knew that Erik would be satisfied with that answer. If it meant that he got to assert dominance, Erik would be pleased without a doubt. 

The question was answered when Erik storms out of the small apartment without so much as a goodbye. Nadir sighs and leans back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. Truly, his eccentric friend would be his death. 

* * *

Christine was growing impatient. Occasionally, when she'd find herself alone in the bed she shared with her beloved, she wondered if perhaps she should have thought of the ways that her plan may have backfired. Erik was hardly speaking to her, only to request small things and to inquire what was for dinner. She worried that perhaps he would not be jealous, but more. She could imagine him painting the elaborate schemes that he believed she plotted to return to Raoul. 

Her face scrunches into a scowl. Surely, he knew that she loved him and him only, did he not? There was nothing left with Raoul, besides the memories held by two childhood friends. That, and of course the ghosts of his calloused hands gently placed against her breasts, his lips placed in all the right places… 

She comes to the realization that in those fantasies, the elaborate scenarios that she can remember, she does not see the blonde man. No, she see's the man who should be with her, who she wished to have those encounters with more than anyone in the world. 

No, not Raoul, but Erik, her maestro, the keeper to her soul, her Angel of Music. She needed him, his lips on every inch of her, their souls entwining, the two of them to become one. She found her hands wander downward at the thought, and she bites her lip. For now, she'd just have to use her imagination. 

It was Wednesday evening. Erik had not been home for hours, and Christine was starting to get worried. She knew that he only used his cellphone for emergencies, but she had called it multiple times in hopes of reaching him. She was anxious, twirling her hair into ringlets and bouncing her leg. She tried to distract herself from his absence by doing chores, and for a short while it did the trick. Still, she found that by telling herself not to worry she only remembered her reason for worrying and increased it tenfold. Now, with the laundry done, the dishes put in the cabinets and the floors swept, she sat down on the couch. It was 9'o clock now, and still no sign of him. She sighed and decided that she would just go to bed. 

She hardly slept. She hummed, softly sang to herself the melodies they shared together countless times, and shed a few tears. She worried that her careless plan may have cost her the trust of her beloved. Dread flooded her stomach and made her anxiety stronger, to where she shook. 

"Erik," she whispered, and she closed her eyes. She curled up in a ball and wept until sleep pulled her in. 

* * *

Erik missed her with his entire being. He had not spoken to her this morning when he left for the day. She did not dare strike a conversation with him either, but he could see the look of worry painted on her angelic face, and it pained him greatly. Still, he could not bear to look. He left their shared apartment, his eyes glazed over. However, he could not spare time to mope, those few days were over. He had to put his own plan into action. 

Now, it was late in the evening. He had returned with new knowledge, and a new sense of power. It had taken Erik hours to study the workings of the human body, specifically the erogenous zones, the spots that would make his angel _mewl_ , _sing_ for _him_ in ways she had not before… The thought alone made his trousers tighten. 

He entered the apartment with agility long practiced. He did not see her in the kitchenette, or the living room. The lights were mostly off, save for a dim lamp in the corner of the room. He smiled fondly, thinking of the sweet girl he loved. _Dearest angel,_ he thought, _always_ _so considerate._

He opens the door without a sound, seeing her petite form curled into the middle of the bed, her arms wrapped tightly around the pillow that he slept on. She slept soundly, but her face showed discontent. He let his voice wander sweetly into her ears. 

_"My angel of music, I return to you,"_ he says, his voice melodic, soft and gentle. 

She stirs and sits up, immediately sitting up to look at him. 

"Erik!" she says, wide awake now. She springs up and embraces him, holding him tightly. She leans up to kiss him soundly, repeating the action over and over. "I thought you abandoned me, that you'd left me forever!" she worriedly rants into his chest, while he strokes her hair soothingly. 

"I apologize, dearest," he says. "I do believe that I can… make it up to you." 

At this her eyebrow raises and she smirks. "Oh?" She inquires. "And how will you do that?" 

His hands begin to wander down, slowly caressing her shoulders with the faintest of touches, and she shivers.  
"Surely you plan to do more than simply massage me, Erik," she teases, and he smirks. 

"Of course, my love, this is only the beginning," he says. "If you are not patient I may have to punish you." 

She taunts him with her tone of voice. "What will it be this time, hm? More laundry, no singing from you for a few days?" 

He swiftly leaned in and began gently biting her neck, causing her to stiffen at the sudden movement but slowly begin to lessen the tension in her muscles. 

"Have I harmed you? Do you wish for me to stop? Christine, forgive me-" 

"No, please," she says. "Erik, I've wanted this for so long. You just surprised me is all." She told him. 

"There are other skills that I have yet to show you, dearest…" He bites down on the pale skin of her collarbone, sucking the sweet skin. His lips kiss down to her breasts, where his hand comes to cup the mounds from over her tank top. Her nipples are hardened and sensitive to his every touch, his caress… 

Oh, his _hands!_ If they felt so good simply kneading her breasts, surely they would feel _angelic_ further down. She allows a moan to escape and the hot, wonderful ache between her legs began to throb even harder than before. 

Erik thinks that if the events of his past had not already driven him to insanity, surely the soft gasps and mewls emitting from the celestial woman beneath him would. His hands are pulling the tan top she has on over her breasts so that he could access the bare flesh better. The cold air causes gooseflesh to spread across her milky skin, and he admires the pink tips of her breast. He leans down and encases one into his mouth, sucking and biting as he did her collarbone. He experimentally rolls it between his teeth and she arches up into him. 

_"Erik!"_ she stutters. He rolls the other bud between his forefinger and thumb, squeezing and all the while kneading the white mound in his large hands. He looks up at her face while he circles her nipple with his tongue, and seeing her squeeze her eyes shut in ecstasy, her mouth wide open in a gasp, it nearly brings him to his own release. 

She is panting, her first orgasm of the night throwing her into the wonderful haze that comes from such passion. She softly moans his name and he loves every second of it, every inch of her, he never wished for her to cease the melodic moans that caused his soul to soar. 

"I don't know where you learned to do that," she says through pants, "but I never want it to stop." 

He chuckles and smirks, but then blushes slightly at the very apparent bulge in his trousers. She bites her lip at the sight and then looks at his face, her eyes softening.  
"My love, I have a request before and if you wish to continue," he says. She looks at him, silently telling him that he could ask anything of her and she would comply. "I ask that you do not… ask of me to remove the mask." He is hesitant, but she smiles sweetly and strokes the leather. 

"I would not ask of you anything that would put you out of your comfort zone." The expression of pure adoration that she bestows upon him assures the man that she is truthful. He lets go of a breath he was unaware that he was holding and she leans in to kiss him. Their tongues rub against one another and she puts her hands on his shoulders, tightly squeezing his lean muscles through his shirt. She moves her hands down to his chest, placing them flat against him before she begins undoing the buttons. She fumbles a bit and Erik chuckles and assists her. His hands guide her and she nervously laughs, muttering, "Pretend you didn't see that," which gains another chuckle from him. 

His shirt is fully unbuttoned now and she's running her hands gently over the scars that cross his tinted skin. He shivers and looks down, seemingly ashamed. Christine kisses his lips firmly before telling him that she thinks his scars are beautiful. Her hands do not remain on his chest for much longer as they begin to wander downward, swiftly undoing his belt and yanking his trousers down. The bulge is even more apparent in his plain boxers and Christine can't help but to bite her lip. She experimentally rubs the hardness, earning a soft moan from the man. The sound is music to her ears, and she bites down on her lip harder. As soon as she tugs off the boxers, his cock springs out, full and awaiting her. 

"Mmm..." she hums, and she strokes it experimentally. He bucks his hips into her hands, groaning gently. She loves the sound. Again she strokes the swollen head, smearing the precum spilling from the tip across the tip. He hisses and she can't get enough of the noises he's making. She gently rubs her knees together to relieve the building tension between her legs. "Erik." She calls. 

"Y-yes, love?" he groans, and she blushes. 

"T-touch me," she says, and his eyes widen at her bold words. "Touch me there." She takes his hand and leads it to the burning place between her legs. He swiftly pulls off her panties and marvels at the sight. His fingers brush gently against the spot, and she loudly moans, pushing her hips on the long digits. She suddenly leans down and kisses the tip of his cock, causing him to cry out in ecstasy. 

"Oh, you minx..." he mutters, his fingers gently prodding into her. She sighs in pleasure and sinks down further onto his fingers. She pops his head into her mouth, swirling her tongue around him idly. She looks directly into his eyes as she does this, and he thinks he may go mad. 

"God, you are a goddess from the heavens above...!" He mutters and she laughs around him, the vibrations causing a spike of pleasure to shoot up his spine. "Christine... I want to devour you." 

"What's keeping you?" She smirks, and she's suddenly beneath him, his hard, throbbing cock prodding her dripping entrance. He leans down to kiss her, and their tongues meet in a lash of passion and love. He eases into her slowly, only until she swiftly presses her hips into his. She feels so good around her, surrounding him. He can feel nothing else but her, hear nothing but her gentle cries for him to move faster. They are sent into another wash of ecstasy when he complies. 

He thrusts into her erratically and she wraps her legs around his waist, crying out. He pounds into her like he knows nothing else, and she listens to the chorus of skin slapping into skin, to his soft cries of her name, the sweetest sound to come out of him. 

His lips brush against her ear, and she feels the cold of his mask against her neck. "Say my name." He demands, and she's in such a haze she can hardly comply. " _Say it."_ he growls, and it sends her over the edge.  
" _Erik!"_ she moans his name, and he pounds even harder into her, her orgasm tearing through her. She whimpers and moans his name, muttering, _"I love you..."_ Causing his own release. 

"Fuck!" he curses, and he pulls out of her, shooting his release onto her naked chest. He pants and gasps, collapsing next to her. They lay there, panting and riding out the blissful feeling. 

"I love you," Erik tells her, kissing her forehead. He gingerly strokes her hair, and she smiles, closing her eyes. 

"I love you, too," she says, and she snuggles into his side. She wraps her arm around his waist, kissing his shoulder. Sleep comes to her quickly, and Erik begins to drift off as well until he is captured by the night. 

* * *

Two old friends sat at a table for two at a cafe, smiling fondly at one another. The girl howled with laughter at the dumb joke the man said to her.  
"Oh man, that one never gets old," she snorts. Raoul smiled at her. 

"Heh," he laughs. "So, onto more serious things." He says, and she looks at him with more focus now. "How did your plan work out in the end?" 

She smirks. "I'll spare you the details," she picks at her nail. "All I'll say..." 

He looks at her expectantly, motioning for her to continue. 

"His ego isn't the only thing that's big." 

**Author's Note:**

> okay thanks for reading i hope you enjoyed


End file.
